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“Let go right now, or I’ll scream my head off.”
“Go ahead. I dare you,” he murmured.
My threat was empty, of course. That would be crazy. Instead, I rolled my eyes at him and turned as much as I could so as not to have to look at his smug, handsome face.
“That’s what I thought. It seems like your first lesson in not being such a spoiled brat has taken.”
“Fuck off, Martino, before you bore me to death. I know this little power trip must be the highlight of your life, but it’s pathetic. Go find someone else to bully. You have no authority over me.” I grabbed the two full glasses of soda and turned, coming up against his body, blocking me.
“Is that right?” he drawled.
I nodded, trying my best to exude uncaring energy. “Yeah. Your need to play Discipline Daddy to someone is boring, and like I’ve told you before, I have vibrators worth more than you, so move along.”
Asher leaned in, his hands landing on the counter on either side of me. “You’ve got some fucking mouth on you, DeLaurie. One day, someone, somewhere, is going to show you that the sun doesn’t shine out of your ass…and put you in your place.”
“In my place?” I snorted, fighting the suffocating feeling of heat pooling in my core. What the hell was wrong with me? Was I actually enjoying this? He carried a knife, for fuck’s sake; he’d cut my hair and spanked me. I was more messed up than I’d ever imagined. It was clearly past time to start seeing a therapist.
“Yeah, in your fucking place.” He leaned in, his hot breath against my lips. “On your knees…crawling, naked and humble, until the brat act dies…”
I was transfixed by the intense glint in his eyes. “Then what happens?” I wondered aloud, and then immediately cursed myself for encouraging his psycho daydreams.
“Then…you find out who you really are, because this mean girl, Ice Queen thing? It’s getting old.”
I wet my lips, and his eyes followed the movement. I found my voice.
“Like I care what you think about me. You and your dumb hockey friends with pucks for brains could disappear off the face of the planet and I wouldn’t even notice,” I breathed.
Asher’s eyes narrowed. “Is that right? What were you getting so worked up about last night then?”
Crap. I’d walked right into that one. Why couldn’t I just ignore this guy?
Asher smirked. “If memory serves, I think you noticed me.”
“You’re insufferable, do you know that?” I muttered, tearing my burning eyes away from his asshole smirk.
“Tell that to your needy little cunt…she was the one weeping for me last night.”
“Shh, keep your voice down. She? Have you lost your mind?” This conversation was running away from me. I glanced furtively over his shoulder. Could anyone hear us? The hockey team was loud behind us, and several of their voices were growing increasingly out of control.
“Of course, such a pretty little pussy is a she…you want me to name her for you?” His infuriating smirk was going to be the death of me.
I forced a condescending smile. “Look, I know that hockey players take a few too many blows to the head, but get this straight now, Martino — I’m not interested in playing any of your little games. I’m not interested in hockey players, period.” I waved my hand over Asher’s shoulder at the hockey players who were getting rowdy. “I mean, look at them. They don’t even know how to act in public,” I muttered scathingly, conveniently putting the football players and Jessie’s incident out of my head.
Anyway, it wasn’t like any of the football players were any better than the hockey ones. They were all huge and arrogant with a penchant for violence, and a major lack of personal boundaries, if Asher was anything to go by.
“By that logic, I suppose all cheerleaders are the same—” Asher started but broke off to frown at the noise coming from behind us.
I twisted to glance in the same direction, just as a fight broke out.
I didn’t know any of the hockey players except the Ice Gods. This wasn’t them. The table beside them had lost their shit. Two guys lunged at each other across the table, knocking plates and glasses to the floor. A worried waitress rushed into the mix and tried to pick up the broken dishes, but got slammed in the side when one of the guys heaved the other to the floor.
Assholes.
Shouts of the rest of the team telling them to knock it off filled the room, along with the quiet gasps of the waitress as she attempted to get to her knees.
She got up slowly, and the fallen hockey player got to his feet beside her.
“Shit, I cut myself. Can’t you clean this shit up? Isn’t that your job?” the player barked at the waitress.
